68. Birdie

Confession: I care what my parents think.

"Mom, Dad," I said, walking toward them. The nurse they were accosting with questions looked relieved.

"They're in room three thirty, but only two people are allowed in at a time."

Dad quickly offered to get us both coffee.

"I'll go back," Mom said determinedly, carefully adjusting her hair with her hands covered in silk gloves. She was wearing exactly what you'd expect one to wear to a labor—a floor-length ball gown, diamond earrings, and curled hair with jewel-encrusted pins.

All I thought was poor Anthea.

She walked past the nurses, swinging her train as she went.

I shook my head behind her. My life was looking more and more like a cartoon every day.

I went back to the chair I'd been sitting in and waited for Dad to come back. He balanced three Styrofoam cups in his hands and set them carefully on the table in front of us. Once they were all down, he took one for himself and handed one to me.

"How are you?" he asked.

I raised my eyebrows. My dad hardly spoke to me, much less asked how I was doing.

"I'm alright," I said simply. "You?"

He shrugged and took a sip of coffee. "I spoke to Walter today."

My gut immediately sank as I waited for him to continue.

"Said he's looking for an assistant and wanted to hire you for the job."

Good thing I hadn't taken a sip yet, because I would have spat it out.

"I told him no," Dad finished.

My mouth fell open, and I set the cup down. That was the last thing I'd expected to hear.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings," he said, "but I don't think you'd do well in the company. And if my golf buddy on the Academy's board of trustees is right, you won't be able to take the job anyway."

My lips parted. "What are you saying, Dad?"

He turned to me, his eyes full of emotion I usually never saw. "Honey, I know your mom and I have been tough on you, but it's hard to be a parent and see your child reject everything you are... It makes you wonder if you focused on the right things after all."

Part of me wanted to argue with him, but he was right. I never wanted the kind of life he and Mom gave me. "I just wanted parents who loved me."

"And we do." He gave me a hug. It was awkward, like he'd never practiced how to give one before, but he'd made an effort, and that meant the world.

As he pulled back, I smiled and said, "Thanks, Dad. For the not-job offer."

He chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. "If history's told us anything, it's that you're not Melrose Insurance material. And Walter is not Birdie Material. Grandpa Chester made sure to tell me that."

I laughed out loud. Grandpa was always there looking out for me.

Mom swept back into the lobby with a weak smile. "They brought out the needles, and I had to leave."

My eyes widened. "You saw the needle?" No wonder she looked so pale. Mom wouldn't even go in with me to get my vaccines when I was a child. She'd had to bring the nanny along instead.

She nodded slowly. "Now, distract me. Tell me about the guy."

I grinned, glad for a chance to tell them about Cohen. I loved talking about him almost as much as I loved thinking about him, no matter how much it hurt. "He owns a popular bar in between Emerson and Brentwood."

"A business owner," Mom said, seeming impressed.

"And he's really kind. The first time I saw him, I had a drink spilled all over my dress, and he brought me to buy a new one, just like that."

Dad nodded approvingly. "Chivalrous. I like that."

"He is," I said, "and he's a great dad. He really cares about his son."

"Your student," Mom confirmed.

I nodded sadly. "But I don't think it's going to work out."

Dad frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I dumped him in an attempt to keep my job, and well, you both know how that turned out."

They were quiet for a moment, and I said, "It's not my day. It's Doug and Anthea's. Let's focus on that."

Begrudgingly, they agreed.

For the rest of the evening and well into the night, we sat in the waiting room, getting periodic updates from Doug on Anthea's dilation. I checked on the news, read texts from my co-workers and parents who were secretly rooting for me.

The entire day was so emotional, building and balling in my chest, so when Doug came out grinning and said, "It's a girl," I burst into tears.

I went back to the room with him first, my cheeks and even some of my dress completely soaked from all the happy tears. With his hand on my back, he led me inside, and I saw Anthea in the bed, a beautiful, pink-skinned baby swaddled and lying against her chest.

I covered my mouth, crying more, and sobbed, "She's so beautiful." I went to Anthea and gave her a sideways hug, admiring the baby she and my brother had made. "Have you decided on a name?"

"Amelia Birdie Melrose," Anthea said. "For her godmother."

My hands went to my heart, beating out of my chest at the honor. "Are you sure?"

Doug walked to the other side and nodded with his wife. "Would you like to hold her?"

I nodded quickly, wiping my tears away.

Doug gently lifted the little baby bundle from Anthea's arms and passed her to me.

Carefully taking her in my arms, I looked down at the little goddess, a perfect person in and of herself. "Hi, baby girl," I cooed, pulling back gently at the blanket by her fingers. "You are absolutely precious."

She blinked up at me, and her finger wrapped around mine, a direct connection to my heart.

"What can I tell you about life?" I asked softly, a tear slipping down my cheek. I ran my thumb over her tiny fingers. "It's messy. But it's awfully beautiful too."